


Habit

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Kink Meme, thumb biting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-05-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 20:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kink meme: The group tries to get Daryl to stop from chewing on his thumb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habit

It’s something he’s completely used to nowadays. Chewing on his thumb is a habit he’s had since forever, he can’t remember ever not doing it and ever since forever ago Merle has been trying to break him of the habit. Honestly Daryl doesn’t know why he still bothers but he figures just as much as chewing on his thumb is a habit for him, trying to make him stop is a habit for Merle.

He doesn’t mind really because there’s no venom in the words anymore, Merle doesn’t even have the energy to get angry anymore when he tries to make him stop. They’re just enjoying the evening at camp, actually being social for once and sitting at camp with everyone else in the quarry, listening to Dale ramble on about everything and nothing and enjoying a few moments of peace and quiet. Sitting besides Merle he throws a few twigs at the flames, not even noticing when his thumb wanders up to his mouth and he begins nibbling on the rough skin there. It’s hard to explain exactly why he does it anymore, it’s just a part of him and it would feel weird to sit here and do nothing at all.

His teeth clip along the side of his nail, pulling at any loose skin there and enjoying the slight twinge of pain from tugging on it. Daryl doesn’t know why it feels nice to bite at his fingers so much, he’s always been a nail biter sure, but when he ran out of nails he’d moved on to the rough skin at the edges, nipping and tugging until they bled sometimes. It doesn’t even bother him to catch a bead of blood against his tongue and swipe it away, moving to nibble at another finger and catch any pieces of rough calloused skin that could be ripped away.

It’s even more pathetic to know that he has a favourite. It’s just natural since he’s right handed of course but his right thumb is his favourite thing to chew on and it’s got the most calluses because of it. The skin around the nail bed is hard, growing back tougher every time and only getting ripped off again sooner. He wouldn’t be shocked if he had no nerves left there, it never hurts anymore when he nips at it, it just feels comfortable.

The others are all joining in on the conversation, laughing about shared memories and talking about the things they were all missing from before. Honestly the only thing that’s hugely different for him was the lack of four walls and a bed, but he doesn’t think they need to know that. Another thing about his habit meant he didn’t have to talk so much when he didn’t want to, his thumb acted as a physical barrier between his mouth and the rest of the world and usually people didn’t expect him to reply when he was like this.

Merle soon loses interest in the conversation and he can feel it when his brother turns to look at him, sighing loudly and dramatically before slapping his hand away from his mouth with the usual reprimand following. “Fingers out of mouth Daryl.” His brother hisses in his ear, the words so used to being said they really mean nothing to him now. Of course he shoves at Merle in annoyance, clasping his hands in front of himself to keep them away from his mouth when he turns his attention back to the group chattering and laughing.

He tries to not think about it as much as he can, he tries to instead focus on what these people were missing the most and trying to imagine what kind of lives they’d all had before this. But it just feels weird to not be doing anything and with his bow in the tent and no arrows to check over his feels fidgety again. Merle just didn’t get it, his brother never got bothered by anything, he guessed his brother had never felt uneasy in his whole life, Merle even took going to prison in his stride with a cocky grin on his face.

No more than a few minutes have passed before he’s idly chewing on his thumb again, barely noticing the weight of the digit on his lower lip as he scrapes his teeth over the rough skin. Honestly it’s not like he could stop himself, it just felt right to bite on his thumb when he wasn’t doing anything else to keep his hands busy or have anything else to bite on.

“Know what I miss?” Merle drawls, leaning on his knees and watching Daryl, speaking mainly to him but loud enough for the whole group to hear. “That Bitrex nail shit we used to have to make you stop. Fingers out of mouth Daryl.” Again his brother swats at his hand, batting it away from his mouth before standing up. “I swear one day I am going to break you out of that habit.”

Daryl snorts in disagreement, it hadn’t worked for the past thirty years so why would it happen now? Shrugging a little he can feel the group watching them bicker but he couldn’t give any less of a shit what these people thought of them both. “Better habit than coke.” He mumbles, getting a smack to the back of the head from Merle for being cocky and then another swat at his hand when he moves to bite off some more loose skin.

“Fingers.” Merle doesn’t even finish the sentence this time, instead just grumbling to himself about annoying little shits for brothers and stalking off to their tent. Of course Daryl doesn’t listen and just settles back to face the fire, enjoying the heat in the cool evening and nibbling on his thumb now Merle wasn’t here to reprimand him.

“Must have been biting your nails for a long time if you’ve tried to use Bitrex.” Lori smiles to him, her arms around her half asleep son and finger combing his hair gently. “Used to use it to get Carl to stop sucking his thumb when he was little.”

Shrugging a little he lets his thumb rest against his lips, not biting for the moment since he was clearly expected to speak. “Ain’t never worked. Stuff tasted like shit and it didn’t stop me, dunno why Merle thinks him keep telling me off is gonna do it.” He doesn’t tell her that when their mom had painted his nails with the clear bitter nail polish he’d simply moved to bite at the pads of his fingers and the skin around the nails instead. Merle had thought he’d had no taste buds, he’d just been a sneaky kid.

Lori gives a little laugh when he begins nibbling on his thumb again, uncaring of the way the rest of the group all seem to smile and share a small chuckle at his habit. “Maybe you need more people to remind you not to do it, your brother can’t be there all the time.”

He scoffs at that, standing up and dusting off the seat of his pants, scowling a little at her for her assumption that he’d ever need any of their help for anything. “Maybe I need you people to butt out of something that ain’t your business.” Heading back to his and Merle’s tent he can feel the dampness on the ends of his fingers cold in the night air from where he’d been chewing on them. It was a feeling he was used to and one he knows he’d miss if it wasn’t there anymore.

Entering their tent he kicks off his boots, flopping onto his bundle of half comfortable items he’d made into a bed on his side of the tent he huffs a little in annoyance. It wasn’t anyone’s business if he liked chewing on his thumb, they could all just fuck off and mind their own business. He tries to get himself comfortable, ignoring the anger he felt and settling to sleep if he could. Of course when trying to feel comfortable there was one thing he always found helped.

“Fingers out of mouth Daryl!” Merle kicks him from across the tent and he kicks back in annoyance.

Things are fine the next day, there’s nothing out of the ordinary they have to kill a few stray walkers that come up to the camp but there’s nothing really worth noting. Merle is a dick as usual, everyone at camp is annoying and useless at making do without modern comforts and it’s not long before he’s annoyed at them all and heading out with Shane to do a perimeter check just to get away from them all.

Of course the perimeter is fine, there’s not even a single walker to shoot or squirrel to skewer and the boredom of Shane going on and on about survival training in the police force causes him to fidget for something to do. Automatically his thumb is in his mouth, being nibbled on and nipped at, ripping at the nail and the skin around it with a quiet sigh. It’s stupid but he finds it calming, when he has to travel everywhere with a weapon to defend himself it’s the little things that help him cope.

A hand reaches out to bat at his making him startle a little and flinch at the sudden movement, but any fear is replaced by anger when Shane speaks. “Fingers out of mouth Daryl.”

Immediately he’s fucking furious, getting in the cop’s face and yelling at him, uncaring if any walkers heard them so long as Shane got it through his thick skull. “Hey back off man! You don’t get to tell me that shit, ain’t none of your business what I do, you ain’t my brother, you ain’t my keeper so shut your mouth!” He shoves at him, storming off, fully aware that he’s blushing and feeling like a scolded kid again for being told off for the habit.

He figures it’s a one off incident because Shane doesn’t mention it for the rest of the day and he avoids the man, making sure to keep his hands in his pockets or wrapped around his crossbow to keep them occupied. It’s awkward to have to keep consciously thinking of where his hands are, and he finds himself chewing on his lips when his teeth need to clamp on something and keep busy. Merle can tell he’s on edge about something, and keeps giving him sideways looks when he clenches his hands in his pockets to not chew on his fingers. But not once does Merle have to slap his hand away or tell him off.

By the end of the day he’s feeling relatively calm again, and yet again they’re around the campfire after having eaten when he begins chewing on his thumb during the after dinner conversation. Tonight’s topic of conversation is sports and really there’s not much he can contribute so again he’s quiet and just nibbling on his nail as T-Dog and Morales debate the better football team. Honestly he’s not even paying attention when the Chinese kid calls his name, making him startle a little when Merle hits his arm to get his attention and making him glance up to the kid with his thumb still in his mouth.

“Daryl, fingers out of mouth.”

Merle’s laughing, everyone else is smirking and he’s fucking gone, storming off to get away from them all and not even heading for their tent. He doesn’t want to be somewhere they can find him right now so he heads off into the woods, ignoring the calls for him to come back and he can hear Merle telling the group not to worry he’d be fine. He hates these people more and more each day they begin to pry into his life further and further and grate on his nerves. Sitting at the base of a tree he’s still within their perimeter, but far enough away to be ignored, allowing him to just seethe quietly and hate them all and this situation without any interruptions.

It only gets more and more common between them all. Each day he hears it at least once, someone either calling it across camp or in the case of Carol the quiet woman a muttered plea from close beside him. He hates the way it makes him feel so unsure, as if they’re watching his every move and judging him. At least with Merle it was just a part of their relationship, it meant nothing and Merle wasn’t so much demanding anymore but just resigned to it all. These people seemed to genuinely think they were helping when all they were doing was making him feel worse.

Their group gets smaller and soon enough the only time he hears the words is when someone’s reprimanding him for gnawing on his fingers, there’s no smirk or resigned sigh from his brother anymore, it’s all just picking at him for his habit. He tries to stop, this time he really does if only to get them to shut the hell up and leave him alone, but it gets worse and the group gets even smaller and then bigger with the Greene family on the farm and before long they’ve picked up on the habit as well.

The winter is tough enough as it is but he feels unable to ever relax and the second his thumb gets anywhere near his mouth someone’s there, calling him out and making him lower his head and shove his hands in his pocket like a scolded child. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal, it wasn’t the worst habit in the world and he wasn’t hurting anybody but they kept going on about it. He manages to keep it under wraps for a while, only chewing when he was by himself or trying to sleep, but sometimes they still batted his hand away with a sigh and a roll of their eyes.

He hated it every time and it made him shrug them off and draw away from them, looking for a spot away from the group so he wouldn’t be scolded quite so much. The only one who doesn’t seem to care much is Rick and when it’s just the two of them the other man doesn’t bat an eyelid if he’s chewing on his fingers and biting at them. Rick just carries on as if it’s normal and one day after Maggie and Beth have both called him out one after the other he slinks off alone to hunt, surprised to find Rick following him with an easy smile.

“Thought you could use some help.” Rick answers his unasked question and walks alongside him, the two of them walking the trails of the forest and searching for some food. After a while he knows they’re not going to find anything, there’s no signs of life in the trees and he figures everything is either dead or hibernating. With a sigh he finds his thumb wandering up to his mouth and when Rick glances over to him he withdraws it with a mumbled apology, waiting for the usual reprimand. Instead Rick shrugs, turning to scan the woods once more. “Don’t apologise Daryl, it’s fine.”

“No one else seems to think so, they’re always yelling at me for it.” He huffs but doesn’t remove his thumb, taking the offered chance eagerly and speaking around his thumb. Over the years he’s gotten rather good at it.

Rick shakes his head with a little smile, watching him but not judging, it’s a nice change from the usual looks he got. “They just worry.”

“Why?” There were walkers out there ready to bite their faces of and they were worrying about him gnawing at his fingers? “It’s just a habit, ain’t nothing else.” He shrugs, walking alongside Rick and not caring that his words stumble a little around his thumb even if they are still clear enough.

“I think it’s just their way of trying to look after you.” Rick explains. “Lori said it was something Merle used to do for you, I think they carried it on as a way to try and make it easier to be without him.”

Well he’d never seen it like that before, but as much as he supposes it’s sweet for them to try and help, it’s still a big assumption that he’d want this. Snorting a little he kicks at the leaves, trying to see if there were any tracks anywhere for them to follow and distracting himself from thoughts of Merle. “Been without him before, don’t need no replacement.” He explains, biting hard on his thumbnail.

“Not a replacement, they’d never try to replace him.” And Rick stops him, meeting his eyes and speaking so honestly it’s hard to look away. “Think of it as more of a reminder, Lori says he’ll be pissed when we find him and you’re still chewing on your fingers.” Rick tries to lighten the situation and despite it all Daryl has to agree. He has to snort at that. Honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if the first words out of his brother’s mouth when they found each other were ‘fingers out of mouth Daryl’ like so many other times.

Shrugging a little he pulls away from Rick’s gaze and nods for him to continue walking with him, a sign that there was no problem between them. “I dunno, I think he’d miss it if he didn’t have a reason to keep scolding me.” He smirks around his thumb, enjoying the feeling of closing his teeth on rough skin and tearing it free, ripping it off before spitting it to the side. “Besides I ain’t stopped before, and I ain’t gonna stop for you people, that’d just piss him off more if I hadn’t listened to him for thirty years and then suddenly listened to all of you.”

Rick grins and nods in agreement, walking with him and not reprimanding him once as he chews on his nail, digging in his teeth until it hurts a little and feeling his skin give way beneath his bite. It may be a stupid little habit, but it was a habit that he shared with his brother and he wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon.


End file.
